


Double Date

by glacialphoenix



Category: Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Community: ff_land, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacialphoenix/pseuds/glacialphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil, matchmaker extraordinaire, is only too pleased at the opportunity to try his skills out on the latest two additions to the Warrior of Cosmos; Kain is easily exasperated. Snark ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Date

**I**

He’s aware that this world is a universal meeting point. 

The Warrior of Light has repeatedly pounded into their skulls (or attempted to; Kain has his doubts) that Cosmos would never summon anyone here without good reason. 

Of course, the fact that it’s the Warrior of Light saying that necessitates his taking the whole statement with an entire shaker of salt. Cosmos is not infallible (a statement that would have earned him a shield to the face, no doubt), and Kain has to wonder how and why the two men before him have been summoned in the first place. They’re not equipped for war: the clothes they’re wearing hardly offer any sort of protection, and he can see no weapons on them. 

One of them isn’t talking much. 

The other chatters like Laguna. 

Cecil appears to be getting along disturbingly well with the chatty one - but then again, it is Cecil. Cecil gets along with everyone, to the point where Kain occasionally wonders if he’d greet Exdeath with a smile and a friendly inquiry as to how his leaves were growing. 

Thankfully, everyone’s favourite paladin matchmaker hasn’t quite reached that level of naivete.

Yet. 

Kain sighs, and folds his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he realises that his partner-in-silence has made the exact same gesture, complete with equally exasperated expression, and he tilts his head in mute acknowledgement. “It would seem they get along well.” 

The man nods. “Phoenix attempts to befriend everyone.” 

“As does Cecil.” 

“It would not take a keen intellect to come to that particular conclusion, yes.” 

Kain regards him before offering a hand. “Kain Highwind of Baron.” 

The other man takes it in a firm handshake. “Miles Edgeworth.” 

That is a good name, a warrior name; it is the kind of name he would expect to hear in Baron. Phoenix, on the other hand... 

He wonders why any parent would choose to name their child after a summon. 

Maybe that explains a few things. 

**II**

They’re still talking. Phoenix and Miles hardly remember anything beyond brief flashes of their relationship; that’s normal. It’s not as if anyone he knows really knows much more than their name and that perhaps someone in here is important to them. 

Damned if any of them can work out why. Phoenix has more or less admitted that he doesn’t know why either, but he knows, bone-deep, that Miles is important, Miles is everything, and that’s that. It’s good enough for him. 

Kain can practically see the Matchmaker Opportunity Alert going off in Cecil’s head. 

Absolutely marvellous. 

“Oh,” Cecil says, beginning to tug on Kain’s arm. “Kain, I think we’ve to retur -” 

As expected. 

“Kindly desist.” That’s Miles. “Your attempt to matchmake is about as subtle as a brick to the head, and equally undesirable.” 

Cecil looks ridiculously delighted by this. “You’re as sarcastic as Kain,” he says, nodding, and Kain can practically see the thought forming in his head: that obviously makes Phoenix and Miles an excellent couple. “Though --” he glances at Phoenix, then, inquiringly. 

Phoenix scratches the back of his head and gives Cecil a slightly sheepish grin. “Well, you know... we don’t know our way around. There’s no map. Or signpost.” 

Kain’s fairly certain he hears Miles mutter “Wright, you would lose your way even with both.” 

“We can help you,” Cecil says, instantly. “Until you get your bearings.” 

Kain has the sinking feeling that this is akin to offering to teach Laguna basic navigational skills: a feat only comparable to persuading Vaan to put on a shirt. Until now, of course. 

(He doesn’t mention Lightning’s perpetual need for anger management courses; he thinks fixing Laguna’s impaired directional sense would be a slightly easier task.) 

 

**III**

The Warrior is always pleased to welcome more people - provided they are, of course, truly chosen by Cosmos, but he’s also asked the question lingering in Kain’s mind. 

The first thing that Phoenix says when asked about defending himself is “I’m a defense attorney, of course I’ve defended myself before, all it takes is the proper use of evid -” 

“Wright. I believe he’s asking us about our proficiency with weapons.”

“If I throw the evidence at people I can give them a really nasty paper cut?” 

“...” 

“I play the piano badly enough to use it as a weapon?” 

“True as that may be, Wright...” 

“Miles here flays people with a glare?” 

It is a very impressive glare, Kain has to admit. Phoenix is either oblivious, immune, or both. If he’s anything like Cecil, the answer is both. 

The Warrior looks like he’s developing a headache. Kain can’t blame him. 

“Training starts tomorrow,” he finally says. “I must consult with Cosmos.” 

Doubtless on exactly why she opted to choose these two. 

**IV**

Training is... different. Phoenix goes arcing through the air, launched off his feet by a well-timed blast of water, and lands with an undignified thud on the hard ground. Yuna, sharp-eyed, instantly rushes to his side, tell-tale sparks of magic already moving across her fingers. “Hold still,” she says, warmly. 

“I’m okay,” Phoenix says, sitting up with a groan. He does seem all right, even if the arc he described in the air wasn’t one particularly suited to his name. 

“I must check,” Yuna insists, and he smiles wryly and lets her, insisting the only thing that hurts is a bruise to his shoulder and a gaping hole in his dignity. 

“You’re right,” she says, amazed, after a while. 

“I’m always Wright,” he says, smiling, to a heartfelt groan from anyone close enough to hear that awful pun. 

But Kain can understand Yuna’s surprise: Phoenix’s landing was not a controlled one; it’s about as far from the elegant landings he learnt to make as a Dragoon trainee as one can get. There’s no mage-power about him, to soften the blow. “How did you do that?” he inquires. 

Phoenix looks puzzled. “I didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just landed.” 

His response is met with stares of surprise. 

Kain’s beginning to think the man’s name does suit him after all. 

**V**

The first time Cecil mentions a phoenix down to, well, Phoenix, the man puts a protective hand up to his spikes and looks distressed. 

“They’re not going to pluck your hair, Wright,” Miles says, bluntly, leaving Phoenix looking only marginally reassured. 

“We won’t,” Cecil assures him. “I only wanted to ask: Kain and I have some time off -” 

They do? 

“And we thought, perhaps you and Miles would enjoy spending the evening with us -” 

_They_ thought? Kain’s pretty certain there’s no plural in that decision. 

“Can we, Miles?” Phoenix has turned to give Miles puppy eyes. 

“Wright, if you would refrain from giving me that look -” 

“It seems rude to turn Cecil down, and he’s been very kind -” 

“ -- despite what your behaviour would lead any sane man to believe, Wright, you are neither five years old nor a puppy -” 

“Please?” 

“Will agreeing put a halt to this charade of yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Very well.” 

Cecil looks delighted. Kain’s glad his helmet hides his face; he doesn’t think he could muster the same enthusiasm Cecil and Phoenix are showing. 

Miles exhales in a long, drawn-out sigh. Kain glances across at him, and in an undertone inquires, “Does he often behave this way?” 

“I remember little, but from what I do remember - yes.” He raises an eyebrow back at Kain. “From the set of your jaw, I’d assume Cecil behaves likewise?” 

Kain nods curtly, then slowly adds, “It would be best, I think, if we, as allies, shared information vital to our continued survival.” 

Miles’s lips curve into a smirk. “Agreed.” 

 

**VI**

The thing about war is that there isn’t actually much downtime, and subsequently, not much to do during said downtime. 

(Doubtless there are people who would point out that he shares downtime with Cecil... while winking suggestively. 

They may be correct, but he’s not going to admit it openly.) 

“So...” Phoenix says, tentatively. 

“We could share stories,” Cecil says, mildly. “Advice. Play cards.” 

They start out with the card games first, after everyone agrees that strip variants would be awkward at this particular point in time. Cecil’s intrigued by the version of poker that Phoenix knows; it’s not the same variant he’s played with allies past and present. 

Kain chalks this up as yet another thing Cecil and Phoenix have happily bonded over, and tries not to think of how the world is doomed once those two embark on some harebrained plan together. 

Advice is a lot better. He discusses things quietly with Miles; Phoenix and Cecil are still chatting away amiably, and he’s certain Cecil is regaling Phoenix with the Tale of How They Finally Got Together And What Everyone Else Had To Say About The Whole Affair. 

He doesn’t know how Cecil manages to spin it out that long; as far as he can recall, what everyone else had to say about the whole affair can be concisely summarised in “About time.” 

“So,” Miles says, after a suitable period of silence. “I believe you mentioned information vital to our continued survival.” 

“Yes.” 

“Pray divulge this information, then.” 

Kain waves a hand at the enthusiastic chatter going on in front of them. “Cecil is... naive.” 

“Yes.” 

“...and to all appearances firmly believes that finding a loved one is crucial to the continued happiness of our allies -” 

Miles raises an eloquent eyebrow. “So I gathered from his actions earlier. Now, if you would enlighten me as to exactly what you meant by ‘to all appearances’?” 

“He seems to … indulge in it a little more than he should.” 

“Hence the attempt to leave me alone with Wright earlier. It was truly a masterful attempt; I’ve yet to see a better display of blatancy.” 

“One of Cecil’s many positive qualities is that he always strives to better himself.” 

“An admirable trait which, I suspect, is sadly absent in Wright, who is... prone to rash actions, though his ability to then think his way out of the situation is quite commendable.” 

Miles must have been a little too loud; Phoenix grins at this, leans over and whispers, “Why, Miles, I never knew you cared! I’ll be happy to autograph anything you still own -” 

“- and I would then find myself quite unable to read your chicken scratch. The sentiment is appreciated, Wright, but I must sadly decline.” 

Kain doesn’t think the point of this exercise is for him to watch Miles and Phoenix flirting with each other, although perhaps Cecil might disagree. He coughs politely, and Phoenix flashes him another sheepish grin before returning to his conversation with Cecil.

“I propose,” Kain says, all sombre, “that we dissuade our respective significant others from co-operating on any joint endeavour that would sorely tax our sanity.” 

He realises, only after he’s said it, that he’s just openly referred to Cecil as his significant other (which is fine; it’s not exactly top secret, by now) - and more importantly, he’s referred to Phoenix as Miles’s significant other. 

Great Bahamut. 

Cecil must be catching. 

 

**VII**

Phoenix and Miles have taken their leave; Cecil is sprawled easily across the bedding. 

“You had an interesting discussion with Phoenix,” Kain says, neutrally. “What did you think of him?” 

“He’s a good man,” Cecil says, slowly. 

“That means nothing; you say that of everyone.” 

Kain knows Cecil can be infuriatingly oblivious when it comes to certain things regarding himself, but the man is oddly perceptive. He never seems to draw the obvious conclusions, though, content to let his observations lie; he’s trusting enough to simply let things play out. 

Kain isn’t.

“He’s... idealistic.” 

Cosmos have mercy, if Cecil thinks Phoenix is idealistic - but Cecil’s raised a hand to halt his protests. “No, Kain, listen. He’s never been in a war, save those fought with words.” 

“And what use will those words be, to us?” Kain asks. 

“We’ll see,” Cecil says, pushing at him a little. “Kain, you’re stealing the blankets.” 

Kain obligingly lets Cecil snag half of the covers; the last time Cecil decided his feet felt cold, Kain woke to what felt like blocks of ice pressed against his legs. 

“Also,” Cecil adds, voice drowsy and on the cusp of sleep, “I asked them back for another double date.” 

“And what will we do, on this double date?” Kain asks, sighing. He’d been right to warn Miles earlier. 

The answer to his question sounds suspiciously like a half-mumbled ‘strip poker’, but he can’t question Cecil any further; he’s dead to the world. 

 

**VIII**

They get another session of ‘double date’. 

And another.

And yet another. 

Cecil gives up on the strip poker idea fairly rapidly - namely, after Miles and Kain, in a fit of (justifiable) sadism, finally consent to one game and wind up leaving him shivering. 

Kain is kind enough to hand him the blankets after five minutes of pointedly leaving him in the corner. 

Cecil never asks for another game again, especially since by the end of it, Phoenix is still completely unscathed. Kain would never expect someone like Phoenix to be quite as good a card sharp as he is, but that’s the way things just are, sometimes. 

That puts paid to that suggestion. Cecil regards the whole strip poker session as completely futile once he realises the following: 

a) If Phoenix and Miles barely have any of their clothes off, his plan is clearly not going to bear fruit;

b) Kain considers the whole thing deeply unamusing and no amount of unclad Cecil is going to fix that. 

Kain cannot tell whether Cecil considers the first or second reason to be more important, but refrains from asking; some things, he decides, are best left unknown. 

The failure of one plan, however, is hardly going to deter Cecil. 

 

**IX**

“Hey, Kain!” 

The vagaries of Fate. “Yes?” 

“Any bets on how long it’ll take Cecil to get the two new guys together?” 

Kain swears his forehead’s throbbing on reflex. “You’ve a betting pool now?” 

“Of course! Hey, you can also bet on what Cecil uses to get those two togeth -” 

“No.” 

Bartz looks disappointed. 

It’s a good thing Kain’s a terribly heartless person, now isn’t it? 

 

**X**

Kain notices Cecil and Phoenix plotting together out of the corner of his eye, and starts worrying. He sees fit to inform Miles, of course, who instantly frowns, deep in thought. 

Their worries are only compounded when he realises that Zidane is, at least at this point, a co-conspirator, and Cecil has been looking particularly pleased of late. 

There’s a nagging feeling in the back of Kain’s head that he’s missing something, and his fears prove to be only entirely too founded a couple of days later, when Cecil, Zidane and Phoenix insist on hauling him (and a very confused Miles) off to the Prima Vista. 

“Why,” demands Miles, straight-backed and imperious, “are you forcing me to visit a ship?” 

“It’s a theatre ship,” Cecil explains, mildly. 

Miles regards him with what is clearly deeply-held suspicion. Kain cannot fault him, there. “Kindly enlighten me as to why you brought us to a theatre ship,” he says, folding his arms and tapping his foot. 

“Phoenix has something to present,” Cecil explains. “It’s,” he draws a breath, and says this in as dramatic a fashion possible - “I Want To Be Your Canary: A Dramatic Monologue.” 

Firstly, Kain thinks, Cecil needs to take a few lessons on being suitably looming from his brother. Golbez looms so impressively you could use him to weave. Secondly, the fact that Zidane’s already rolling on the ground trying not to laugh too loudly is... probably telling. Phoenix is currently nowhere in sight but - 

Oh. 

Apparently the theatre ship comes fully stocked with costumes, and Phoenix opted for appropriate period garb. Though it seems nothing save perhaps Cloud’s hair gel will save those spikes of his. 

Kain can hear Miles muttering something about _embarrassment_ and _harebrained, idiotic scheme of Wright’s_. 

“What,” Miles starts to demand, but is abruptly stopped by Phoenix beginning his declamation. 

“Miles,” he says, earnestly, “Miles. I wish to be free of my cage; an unhappy songbird such as I can lend no voice...” 

Miles splutters. 

Kain tries to ignore the disaster slowly unfolding in front of him. It’s not that Phoenix can’t act; the man seems to be taking to the role with a great deal of relish and (latent) talent. It’s that the words, even to someone with no appreciation of the theatrical arts, seem to have been mercilessly butchered in the attempt to produce this... travesty. 

“Wright, I would prefer not to see you charged with the murder of the English language -” 

Phoenix ignores this, segueing into something even more ridiculously sappy. It’s something about canaries, and possibly lovebirds, and winging off into the sky forever. 

“Wright.” 

“--and, I pray thee, if thou wilt but take me into the cage of thy bosom -” 

“ _Phoenix._ ” 

“- where I shall, like the lark, rejoice in the comfort of thy sweet company -” 

“Your identity crisis might perhaps be best dealt with in private, Wright,” Miles snaps. “If you cannot decide on whether you are a phoenix, a canary, a lark, or a lovebird, perhaps you need time alone to ruminate on this matter.” 

Phoenix stops mid-sentence, and looks utterly crestfallen. Kain swears, privately, that even his numerous spikes manage to seem like they’re drooping in sorrow. 

“Who,” Miles demands, “gave you that cockamamie idea?” 

Cecil raises his hand like a scolded child; Miles whirls on him with a furious deathglare. Kain’s quite impressed, really.

Cecil’s quite unaffected. 

“Sir Cecil,” Miles says, voice daggers and ice shards, “I thank you for your gracious assistance in matters that are none of your affair, and I believe Wright and I are perfectly capable of settling this _on our own._ ” 

Cecil brightens at this statement, and instantly grabs for Kain’s arm, pulling him away. “I’ll excuse myself, then,” he says, cheerily. “Pray forgive my intrusion; it was well-meant.” 

The last Kain sees of those two is Phoenix still giving Miles a puzzled look. 

The last Kain hears is actually Zidane shouting, “Just in case you need to know, the moogles _do_ sell lube!” 

 

**XI**

Kain later finds a note addressed to Cecil. The penmanship is absolutely atrocious, but is at least legible; he hands the slightly-crumpled paper over. 

“It’s from Phoenix,” Cecil says, smoothing it. “He says thank you, and that he and Miles will not, he thinks, require any more double dates in the near future.” 

“Good.” 

“I agree,” says Cecil, smiling. “I’m glad this succeeded. I’ve other matters to consider.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“I’d like your counsel on this, in fact.” 

“What is it?” Kain glances around the room, spots his canteen of water, and fills it, taking a long drink. He needed that. 

“What do you think of the Warrior of Light and Cosmos as a couple?” 

Kain chokes.


End file.
